I'm a handful Bud

Tears came flowing down my face reaching at the same peek of my chin each time dropping off onto my tiny hands that my mom loves so much. each tear replenishing my cracked skin ,a desert that had finally seen rain. i grabbed my face as to cover the hideousness that was the sorrow and pain leaking though my facial expression. rocking back and forth as they asked me politely to calm down but i couldn't. the air was muted in place, i suddenly was on TV and they had turned my sound all the way down. all i could hear was the obnoxious noise that was unable to diminish from my mouth even though i was still surprisingly in control of my mind and body. it didn't feel like it at  the moment though. i began rocking back and forth once again as i heard glimpses of what they were asking me as the things on my mind spilled out of my skull onto the clean lunchroom table pouring onto poor Julie hands. My problems now stained into their very ears earwax they would never get out. when the sobs began to subside all i could
say was, "aunt, Kimmy, died,of beast cancer yesterday...i don't even know why I'm crying!" Then breaking out into more cries of support however all that came out was bits of words and bits of letters that were suppose to be words but was only gibberish. they cried for
me to help them understand so they could help yet i didn't understand what i needed help with. i guess crying in the middle of a school lunchroom gripping your face and hair included as a help needed sign. in need of someone in particular i ran out of the
lunchroom in a hurry telling them i would be fine on my way out. they didn't know where i had gone. i wasn't hiding though or at least that's not what i intended leaving for. walking down the hallway i wiped my tears away with the back of my hand as any five year old would do who cant stop crying because mommy forgot to leave the bathroom light on before bed so the monsters wouldn't get her. people stopped me and i waved them off persistent to get to my destination right down the hallway beyond the first set of doors. once i reached that glass door another sob came out before i looked to the left only to realize he was there; the person i was looking for. he watched me all the while i plopped down next to him on the wooden bench, ignorant to my bad posture.
i turned my face towards him and said, "don't be intimidated by the tears, my aunt died yesterday of breast cancer and i don't know why but, its hurting today." he nodded at me. he was a quiet soul and i knew that ,though that did not stop me from confiding in him for every unresolved conflict outside and inside. "but the real reason I'm here is because i have a question."
"okay" he replied flatly.
"do you love me like seriously?"
"yes" he said quietly.
"I'm serious because if you don't then i give you full permission to leave me right now. i wont blow-up or get angry. Just go."
"no"
"why not?"
"i don't know. because i don't want to."
"i am a handful bud." My friend Julie and Wanda rounded the corner at that moment asking me 15 questions in 3 seconds, "where have you been? do you need to talk to someone  you can talk to Mrs. Donner? why do you want to stay here, just come with us Lou!" my only reply with dried eyes was "I'm fine I'm with buddy. ill be fine." after they gave me cold stares and left i proceeded with my conversation looking deep into his milk chocolate brown eyes that only some would ever know how sweet his stare could be.
"like I've only met the lady once or twice growing up and i cant believe just a month ago she stopped by my house to tell me how good her therapy was going and how healthy she was now. My cousin must be a wreck.oh wow." i giggled at that moment pretending he didn't hear me trying to refrain from another giant sob that was in my throat, it felt as if the actual letters were stuck in my throat, a giant lump of three letters, sob.
"that's sad." he replied with a little more sympathy than the last. he put his arm around me as i leaned into his shoulder rubbing my face into his jacket that smelled of only him for physical comfort as his soft voice rendered emotional comfort with the little that was asked or said.
"Other than them i got nothing Bud."
"i didn't know that Lou. Well you got me Lou. "
"why are you here anyways?"
"I'm waiting for a ride suppose to be going home sick."
"oh."
"uhh there goes my mom in the office now."

just a thought at 10:48 on a sunday

Is it a bad thing that ive become so numb to the words that once tied knots around me and made me trip, falling and breaking maybe even aching and fearing once before? the same words that once choked me and i guess now have killed all tingly feeling emotions left in me, some may say i might as well be dead. im not without happiness just without..love. its not the fact that i am not loved, i am. its just i cant love people anymore. Well i think i am loved for a certain amount of time. i believe theres a clock ticking for me and its not to find the one but merely the time i have left until he stops loving me. i believe that every person no matter what connection has a time limit before they need something new and stop  loving you and me. its a sad concept i know and i am hopefully that someone some day for me has an endless clock.  

Commercial Family

some days when I think to myself looking at the ceiling huddled under my green covers with my fingers rubbing the head of my teddy bear almost as a genie lamp to close my eyes and dream about what it would be like if I had a family one of my own. Some days I dream about what my family is like. i dream about the commercial smiles they would put on for new comers and the arguments so bitter to us yet sweet to know the truth from people who care. I imagine we would all gather around and talks about who looks like who and our imperfections that make us the Klemmons/Jones/Clark/Randolph family. That in our family there would be that one cousin who no one in the family can stand but life isn’t the same without. i imagine their hugs would feel like the spark of a plug inserting itself into a warm socket and their kisses the smooth fabric of those silk red bows slipping between your fingers of a finished present. The exchange of 'i love yous' would be the soothing feel of bread to the homeless a finally resolved craving. But i can only imagine since my family's long gone. All i have left is my mom and my brother, they gave me hugs and kisses at one point in life when those sparks of plugs and sockets and silk red ribbons still existed for us. one night mom and i sat in the car outside of the dollar store talking about siblings in which i stopped and listen to her story of how her big brother, and four other cousins grew up together teasing the youngest. She smiled as she recalled the memory, the laugh lines so wary and worn barely even used anymore. They were the only signs of tears i have ever seen shed from mom but it was okay. i appreciated the painful effort she took to dig up the similarities of growing up to me about the people i had never met. 

Hand outs

“Hand me someone”

I never wanted you to see me as a charity case all I wanted was a hand. Someone who would hold it when it begins to rain on my head in the clouds, and a hand to rub my back saying “baby don’t go cold”.

That same hand that will wrap around my heart when the blanket of hope is gone and the stain of love<3 has been washed away that same old blanket we use to share on those l o n e s o m e nights. I need a hand that says ‘forget?’ while the other says ‘just live’ to press on my chest whenever I’ve passed out from lack of trust and humanityA.

That smell of the sunlight in the sewer will remind me that this hand is the map to where my iome is.

individuality defined in me

As you can see, I’m just being me, resisting the pressure, escaping the labels, running from their stitches I’ve always been able, buying my individuality, paid in a grueling reality, because in order to be noticed I have to be bought, but I manage I guess that’s just a teenage mentality, stapled and stamped stitched and sewn, what if I don’t want to be owned? Only a product like some of you who sit here now. Listen silently and hear those muffled screams hushed by that price tag of Abercrombie. No classification for Mickey, no labels silence me, there’s only me and my originality.

Coming Out Empty Handed

coming out empty handed.

I reach my hand out every day waiting for you to pour out that sweet love and care I remember,

But leaving empty every time, I remember the taste of that love,

so sweet,

  so sour,

 bitter

 on my wet tongue burning so slowly a taste only loves would know,

 Going down my throat its warm filling up what’s missing, Stuff it in the corners of my heart where none have reached before it crowds up all space for anyone else

, choking me too death I might just kill myself wondering why I’m so out of that lovely gasoline was it something that I said

my hidden power...

My Hidden power

I have a super power

It’s nothing you’ve ever seen before

You probably don’t know me

Even if I showed up at your door

Screaming and yelling

It’s never worked for me

Even with my wacky clothing

You never really see me

Missing in action

A loneliness soon fated

Still not knowing who I am

Sadly concealed I waited

Super powers not asked for

Secretly struggling to be seen

No one would ever notice

My power Unwanted invisibility 

By : Mickey Jones 

Dont doubt me and my feelings

^{I hate it when people doubt me and my feelings, just because I’m 14. Yes, my life consists of school, boys, friends, and family but doesn’t mean I haven’t learned anything already. My grandma always says, “girl you think you angry now just wait till you’re older” but grandma I’m angry now because you’ve doubted a girl who’s feelings are her only truth to life. Without feelings every day life would be..nothing.  They always try to say I can’t feel because I’m so young but I can feel. I press on the bruises of the wounded, and the beaten every day, I’ve swallowed their sorrows that get stuck in the drain only to be thrown away while an after taste of loneliness leaves a sweeping wind that only the lonely know. I’ve felt the piercing “L” word so sharply hit their hearts still leaving it bleeding only to realize I’m still just a puppy in your eyes no matter how hard it hurt, and the anger that rises through me like waves crashing down on that poor old sunken boat with that happy sailor who just wanted to some for food for their family for once I feel his cries for help and the waves cries for hope. So don’t doubt that I can feel ive felt it and I wont doubt you when you say I feel it too.}

challenge #279

"Can you taste it?" she whispered in his ear sitting next to him drained of all energy from an early morning start.

“Taste what?” he answered.

“The dew in the air.” She smiled at him even giggling a little.

                The morning mist expelled into the air creating a haziness between them that would not last they knew. Her feet dipped slightly into the coldness that lay under them of the Allegheny River. Their small island being the only barrier between them and the boisterous city. The morning came rising as if it to conquer Pittsburgh with its sun rays once again shedding light upon what is a new day. The warm colors so inviting yet the eeriness in the air so empty of words, or even ideals for words. They continued their conversation side by side under the misty blanket, and bedded peninsula to gaze at the beauty that was the light hitting the water with a mysterious smoke rising from the river into the mango colored sky.

                “Personally I didn’t think dew had a scent.” He assumed looking at her hands bundled in her yellow, thin Hood with the beloved game character from 1980; pacman.

“Then how do know it’s there?” she stared off into the distance asking her question as if the answers were in the wetness of her toes from the frosty river water.

“Because I can see it, I guess.” He shrugged.

“No, but have you ever really stopped to inhale that amazing smell of the morning dew.”

“No, I haven’t actually.” He smiled back at her with a slight raise in his left eyebrow ‘how strange she was’, he thought to himself often however, endearingly.  

Time passed as they sat there staring off into the distance that was the river. The moment instead of being an in depth conversation passed just like the time; strolling endlessly. Unexpectedly with one quick motion he grabbed her by both her shoulders and pulled her close whispered, “you’re so different”, into her ears then pressing his lips to hers, the chilling morning suddenly disappearing from her body. He released his grip only to see her putting her hands over her mouth smiling.  

She sat at a smooth wooden table across from a woman sobbing ceaselessly, still covering her lips from the memory carved into her mind that once was her and him. Looking down at her tears that dripped from her face onto her small, firm hands she could only wish he knew he meant more while peering across the room at his casket.